


Senses

by CelestialMechanism



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialMechanism/pseuds/CelestialMechanism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This small one is a lot like you. He’s dazzled by the mysteries of the town and would surely be sucked up into it without a grounding force that’s already led him astray in a way you can’t quite place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Senses

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on this (http://memekingarthur.tumblr.com/post/113424385076/okay-but-hear-me-out-i-dont-think-stanleys) comic by memekingarthur.tumblr.com

“You’re the author. You’re really him, you wrote the journals! You were gone- but you’re here now. And wow, Stan’s- or, not Stan? That’s not important, I can’t believe he never even told us. I guess I can believe it but- wow.” The kid bounces a bit under your hard gaze, a tail practically wagging behind him. It would be easy to give him a pat on the head and some kind of treat - an answer to the millions of thoughts that are scattered all over his face. You can’t really remember the last time anyone who could be that excited held such a tainted presence about them.

“You write in that…?”

He stops paging through the journal, now added to with scrawl tucked into the margins around the diagrams and drawings that you may as well have done a million years ago. His cheeks go red like he was caught in some kind of act. “Dipper. Yeah, I mean I thought it was okay since you were probably dead or gone or something but you can have it back…” he trails off and looks back down at the journal. You can tell how he feels about the thing just the way he almost sighs at the idea of giving it up. You grunt in dismissal and let Dipper go back to the never-ending stream of blathering on about what he’s done all summer in some kind of effort to make you proud.

The last few- hell, who knows how long? Years, decades, centuries, a small eternity it felt like in that hole while you turned over and over again in your head what it was to have a family, a brother that would so swiftly turn on you like that over a disagreement. This small one is a lot like you. He’s dazzled by the mysteries of the town and would surely be sucked up into it without a grounding force that’s already led him astray in a way you can’t quite place.

Soon, though, you’re able to pick up on what it is that makes you eye Dipper sideways when he isn’t looking, the pressing air that fills up the shack wherever he happens to be. It’s in the way he talks and occasionally loses his train of thoughts all while skirting around certain events that he’s touched on but not quite delved into. You pull the gun (stun, you wouldn’t kill without a provocation but you can never ben too careful) from your side, aim it at Dipper who’s abruptly stopped speaking to stare at the weapon in confusion and horror.

“I sense Cipher,” you rumble. This could be dealt with easily, and who could really blame you. If Bill was here then Dipper would be long gone anyway. Who knows how much time had passed since Dipper was gone anyway?

“Wh- what? No!” He holds the book tightly in front of him like it would work as some kind of shield and either the demon’s become a very convincing human or your intuition has been thrown out of whack with heightened nerves and dulled sympathy. “Bill’s not here- we haven’t had to deal with him in weeks, I swear! _Mabel!?_ ”

The call for help and utter panic makes you lower the weapon and put it back, possibly against your better judgement. “You never summon that thing. Ever.” You stare down the kid, breathing heavily as he looks back at you with wide eyes, for just another minute before pushing past him and out of the room, out of the shack. You’re furious and shaken up. Apparently Stanford hadn’t taught them any better than you’d expected him to after everything.


End file.
